


extra whip

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [42]
Category: Saturday Night Live, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Undercover Boss: Starkiller Base - SNL Sketch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Rey, Coffee Shops, F/M, Randy is hung up on the number of pumps, Randy makes stupid fucking coffee orders, Semi-Public Sex, Workplace Sex, coincidentally so is rey, rey is a horny shamwow, rey really like's randy's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: He takes the cup from her gently, and she knows the part is coming that wrecks her the most. He brings it to his mouth carefully, never tearing his gaze from hers as he takes a slow sip. He always fuckingsmileswhen she gets it right—and why is she so pleased when he does? She feels like some sort of touch-starved Yorkie who’s just praying that master gives her a bone.Randy gives her a quiet thank you, turning to carry his coffee from the shop and strolling out the door. Rey takes a deep breath as she moves to busy herself with the next order, thinking to herself that she really needs to get laid.Justnotby Randy.In which Randy the Intern can't stop overcomplicating his coffee order, and Rey can't stop wishing he'd just order her instead.
Relationships: Randy the Intern/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Randy the Intern
Series: Oneshots [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1321118
Comments: 93
Kudos: 822





	extra whip

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I AM NOW RANDYTRASHFOREVER  
> 

“Fuck,” Rey mutters under her breath. “Not it.”

She tries to scramble away, attempting to hide behind the cappuccino machine before he catches sight of her.

“Oh no,” Kaydel huffs, pushing her back towards the front counter. “I got him last time. Besides, he’s not as dickish to you.” 

Rey doesn’t think that’s true, but he’s caught her eye now, giving a little wave in greeting as she shuffles dejectedly over to wait on him. 

“Hey,” she mumbles, doing her best to repress a sigh. “Welcome to Jawa Juice. Can I help you?”

He stares up at the menu, studying it with the hyperfocus of someone who is diversifying their portfolio rather than ordering a fucking coffee. It’s the same story every other day—same knit hat of various colors, same variant of an outfit that looks like he picked it out of an Apple Genius’ hypothetical clothing catalogue, same full mouth that makes her want to bite it a little—no. What? Fuck. She shakes those thoughts away. She absolutely doesn’t allow herself to thirst over _him._

_Randy._

Possibly the most difficult customer to ever walk through the front door. He comes in a few times a week—she thinks she heard him say once that he works somewhere nearby, not that she cares—always wearing the same frown. Always taking _entirely_ too long to order. 

And not to mention…

“Okay, let me get a grande, quad—” He gives her a pointed look, holding out a hand in warning. “I want it non-fat”—he holds up one finger—“ _one pump”—_ he waves that obnoxious hand of his back and forth—“no whip. I mean it. Not even a splash.” His eyes dip back up to the menu for half a second before he adds: “Mocha.”

Rey feels her teeth grinding together. _That. That_ is why no one wants to wait on Randy. He always makes the most obnoxious, _pretentious_ orders that he can come up with. Plus, they’re always _different,_ so you can’t even try to prepare for him ahead of time. It’s enough to make her want to tear her hair out. And his, really.

Her voice is tight. “Is that all?”

“Yeah.” He nods thoughtfully, looking as if he isn’t aware of just how frustrating he is. “That’s it.”

He shuffles off to the side, not even bothering to give her his name at this point—and she wonders what would happen if she were to give him more than _one pump._ Would he flip his lid if she gave him say, _two pumps?_ Maybe she would chance even a _third pump?_ What would he—

She blushes suddenly, unwanted innuendo creeping into her subconscious as her train of thought goes somewhere other than coffee. She sneaks a glance over at him standing in a corner and staring down at his phone as he taps furiously at the screen, biting her lip.

Because that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

Randy is fucking _hot._

Sure, he’s pretentious and uptight and a major _pain in her ass—_ but everything about him that should make her want to run _far_ away (and it does, it totally does most days)—sometimes just… makes her want to do… other things. 

His ashy blonde hair always juts out at the perfect angle on either side of his beanie, and his puffy vest hides what she _sincerely_ suspects is some major definition if the arms that jut out of it are any indication. Sometimes she finds herself staring fixedly at his fingers when they wrap around the cups she hands him—and it’s hard not to imagine them wrapped somewhere else when he does so. Somewhere definitely located on her body. 

It’s a fine line she walks between hate and horny. 

It takes her exactly ten minutes to make his drink, twice the time it takes her to make anyone else's, and she’s fully dipped back into hatred by the time she’s burned herself on his stupid fucking coffee order twice. She carries it over to the pickup counter, calling out his name as he looks up from his phone and pushes off the wall to stalk over to her. She hates how tall he is, only worsening her condition that makes it hard to stay pissed at him, pursing her lips as she holds out his cup for him to take. 

_Don’t look at his fingers. Don’t look at his fingers. Don’t look at his—_

Fuck. She looked.

Do they have to be so thick?

He looks like he could really—

No. Stop that. Think of his coffee order. A guy who orders like he does probably has a hard time giving his own _hand_ an orgasm. Best to lock that shit up tight. 

He takes the cup from her gently, and she knows the part is coming that wrecks her the most. When he _tests_ his order. He brings the cup to his mouth carefully, never tearing his gaze from hers as he takes a slow sip. Rey isn’t sure if he knows what he’s doing to her or if he’s really just _that_ much of a blithering asshole—but either way she finds herself watching and waiting for his verdict as he swallows down his taste test. 

And he smiles. He always fucking _smiles_ when she gets it right—and why is she so pleased when he does? She feels like some sort of touch-starved Yorkie who’s just praying that master gives her a bone. 

She visibly cringes at her own internal analogy as Randy gives her a quiet thank you, turning to carry his coffee from the shop and strolling out the door as if she hadn’t just soaked up all the sexual tension in the air like a horny shamwow with no one to wring her out. She takes a deep breath as she turns to busy herself with the next order, thinking to herself that she really needs to get laid.

Just _not_ by Randy.

* * *

Sometimes he orders more than one thing, but Rey can always pick out which one is his.

Mostly because it takes her two to three times longer to make than the others.

Rey wonders if he gets the other cups for friends. Does Randy have friends? She sneaks a glance over her shoulder where he’s scowling down at his phone. She has to assume he approaches every other aspect of his life with the same infuriating meticulousness that he affords his drink order. It’s actually a little hard to imagine him casually hanging out with a group. God, what would that posse even _look_ like? Rey is certain one of them would be unironically wearing a fedora.

_Iced, Half Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, Sugar Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte._

She rolls her eyes. She wonders if he knows that ristretto means _somewhat restrained._ She scoffs down at the cup she’s nearly finished fixing. This is the furthest thing from restrained that she’s ever seen. She’s careful as she adds it to the drink tray, refusing to spill a drop, knowing that it will only get him all riled up. She carries the tray over to the pickup counter, calling his name, and he shuffles over to her without even looking up from his phone. 

She’s anticipating it now, like some sort of sick Pavlovian response—watching as he separates his cup from the others to pluck it from the carrying tray and hold it up to his mouth. He looks at her— _why does he have to look at her when he does this?—_ taking a slow sip to check and see if she got it right. She wonders if he does this on purpose. Wonder if he hopes she _will_ fuck it up.

She mentally scoffs. Probably. 

She knows she didn’t. It’s almost become some sort of smug game, taking extra care to fulfill every one of his stupid demands. Almost as if by getting it _just right_ —she’s really sticking it to him. He pulls the cup away, licking a bit of soy milk from his lip that clings there. 

God, why does she sort of _really_ want to _stick_ it to him?

She clears her throat, eyeing the coffee. “Good?”

He smiles. Actually _smiles._ Why does she like his smile? “Perfect.”

He gives her a little nod as he returns his cup to the tray to plucks it from the counter, carrying it away to exit through the front door. Rey doesn’t release the breath she’s holding until it closes behind her, blowing it out through her mouth and shaking her head as she turns from the counter to go back to work. 

Poe laughs from the blender where he’s making a smoothie. “His order was extra douchey today, wasn’t it?”

Rey shrugs. “It was a doozy.”

“Man.” Poe whistles under his breath as he pulls the mixer away to add more ingredients. “He’s sort of hot though, right?”

Rey presses her mouth together. “I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

She clings to her desperate attempt at pretending that she is not, in fact, into that.

“Someone just needs to straighten him out.” Poe waggles his eyebrows as he suggestively adds a banana to the smoothie he’s working on. “Don’t you think?”

Rey makes a face. “Tell me why I work here.”

“Because you needed the tip money, and I can’t hire Armie, because his complete inability to even make black coffee would run my business straight into the ground.” Poe shudders. “Cutest ass you’ve ever seen but utterly useless at simple tasks.”

“I feel like your appreciation of my best friend’s ass is not something I want to be talking to you about,” Rey groans. “Ever. Like, _never ever._ ”

“Whatever,” Poe laughs. “No one asked you to befriend my boyfriend. Hand me some blueberries.”

Rey tries not to think about _straightening_ out Randy for the rest of her shift.

* * *

Sometimes he actually tries to talk to her.

It always takes her by surprise, when he does, and this time is no different.

“What can I get you?”

He tucks his bottom lip beneath his top one, only making the top one seem fuller, more pronounced, begging for her teeth.

She groans internally.

“Let me get…” He reaches to scratch at his goatee, and she definitely _does not_ want to do that for him. “A nonfat frappuccino.” Rey taps the button for this order, and his pause makes her think this is it, that this will be a somewhat normal order, but he isn’t done. “Can I get extra whipped cream?” Strange, but not too bad, she taps that in too. “Oh, and chocolate sauce.”

Rey can’t help the way she cocks an eyebrow up at him, and he blinks back at her as if he can’t determine why.

She gives a little snort of a laugh. “Kinda defeats the purpose of nonfat.”

Not that he needs it, she thinks. He _has_ to be cut under that stupid fucking vest. Look at his _arms._ She doesn’t even think she could get her hand around one. 

He shrugs. “Full fat feels too heavy. I don’t like the way it feels on my tongue.”

Rey feels something short-circuiting, and she turns away from him as fast as humanly possible. 

When she brings it out, he lingers, and there is still that moment, that maddening fucking moment where he sips at a cup, and for a brief second she wants to _be the fucking cup—_ but he doesn’t immediately carry it away, and there is no one else in the shop right now but Kaydel, and she’s in the bathroom.

“Have you worked here long? You’re always here when I come in.”

“A few months,” she tells him. “Working through the summer until the new semester.”

He takes another slow sip, and it’s distracting, _so distracting._ “You go to Chandrila?”

“Yeah, it’s my”—her eyes dip to the way his lip curves around the plastic lid of the cup—“last year.”

He nods as he smacks his lips together, and she reminds herself of all the times he makes most of her work days a living hell. “I graduated last year.”

“Oh?” He shoves his hand in the pocket of his vest, and somehow it makes his shoulders more pronounced. She tears her eyes away before it’s obvious she’s staring. “I never saw you.”

He shrugs. “I don’t get out much.”

“Right.”

He takes another slow sip, and Rey realizes this is a very normal conversation, and that he doesn’t seem nearly as anal-retentive as he does when ordering. “Anyway… Guess I’ll see you next time, Rey.”

Her mouth is gaping a little as he walks away, knowing she’s never given him her name. For a minute her heart pounds strangely, for reasons she can’t discern because she is not _flutterly_ over the pretentious, beanie-clad hipster that treats his coffee order like it’s state business. But he knew her name. How did he know her name? Did he ask someone about her? Did he want to _know?_ Did he—

It hits her after an entire minute, and she glances down at her name tag to roll her eyes. 

Right. 

_Get a grip, Rey._

* * *

Sometimes he’s in a bad mood.

She can always tell when it’s going to be one of _those_ days—his mouth always turned down in a tight line and his expression looking like someone just took the last of the all-organic strawberries from the local farmer’s market before he was able to get there. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched as if bracing himself for something.

These are the days that usually take her by surprise. 

“What are you feeling today?”

Randy’s nostrils flare a bit as his eyes dip to the menu for a brief few seconds. “Just a black coffee.”

Because _that._

On days like this, Randy’s order is so plain it’s almost lazy. Rey has come to almost feel _disappointed_ on these days. It feels like it’s not even a challenge, and some odd part of her has come to _expect_ the challenge that is his ridiculous order.

She doesn’t have to go far, for an order like this, and it means that she has nothing to do as she pours but study his dejected expression. 

“Bad day?”

He scoffs as he cuts his eyes to the floor. “My boss is a dick. Just another day.”

“My boss is a dick too,” Rey offers.

Poe calls from the drive through window: “I resent that!”

This makes Randy smile, and Rey is surprised that this pleases her. She fills his cup to the brim, grabbing for a lid. “What do you do?”

“I’m an intern at First Order Software Development,” he grumbles. “It’s supposed to lead to a full time position at the end of the year, but on days like this I wonder if it’s worth it.”

“I hear ya.” She makes a quick decision, adding a pump to the coffee before attaching the lid. She hands it over to him, and he takes a sip before knitting his brow. “Vanilla?”

“You seem like you could use it.”

His lips curl, and that sour attitude he brought in seems lessened now. “Right. Thanks.” He lifts the cup in her direction. “See you.”

Rey is confused to find she isn’t irritated at all as he walks out.

* * *

Sometimes it is _Rey_ who has a bad day. 

This just so happens to be one of them. 

Her advisor informed her today that a couple of her course credits didn’t carry over, and now she will have to squeeze them in or risk not graduating with her class. It’s had her in a sour mood all day, and she would like nothing better than to finish closing up and get home to her leftover pizza and her reruns of The Office. 

She sweeps the floor with more aggression than necessary, grateful at least that she’s closing alone, and that she doesn’t have to make small talk. There is less than fifteen minutes to go until she can lock the doors and get out of here, and she’s counting down every one. 

But of course the universe has other plans. 

The overhead bell rings with the opening of the door, and Rey huffs out a breath through her nostrils, tossing a greeting over her shoulder without even looking. 

“Hey, be with you in a second.”

“Take your time.”

Rey freezes. She freezes because she knows that voice, and for whatever threadbare rapport she has found with Randy the intern in the last few weeks—she is in no mood for one of his mind-numbingly complicated orders tonight. She turns slowly, knuckles white around the broom handle as she regards him lingering casually near the counter, hands in his pockets and expression free of worry or care as he stares back at her. 

“Please tell me that you want a black coffee,” Rey sighs.

His forehead wrinkles in a way that she might even find endearing on any other day than this one. “No? I was actually thinking of trying out a caramel macchiato.”

Rey narrows her eyes. “ _Just_ a caramel macchiato?”

“Oh. No?” He leans against the counter’s edge. “Skim, extra shot, extra hot, extra whip.” He furrows his brow as if considering before he adds: “Sugar-Free.”

Rey feels her blood boiling. “Really? _Really?_ ” She tosses her broom to the floor. “That’s what you want?”

He looks confused, to his credit. “Yes? What’s wrong? Are you out of caramel? I can do mocha instead… but if we are going mocha I think maybe hold the extra whip. Too sweet.”

Her eye twitches. “You do know we’re closing in like ten minute, right?”

“I…” He glances at the clock on the wall, and then over to the blinds she’s already closed, making the room a little darker. “Yes?”

“And you came in anyway with that complicated-ass order?”

He frowns. “Is it complicated? I didn’t think it was that complicated. I—”

Rey throws up her hands in frustration. “Are you kidding? It’s _incredibly_ complicated. All of your damned orders are! You come in here with these coffee orders that are neurotic and precise and take up all my time—and you don’t think they’re complicated?”

“Oh.” Randy looks at his shoes as if he genuinely hasn’t considered this before just now. His lips pout and his posture slumps. “Wow. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be a pain.” He reaches to scratch at the back of his neck. “I just… like to try new things.”

He looks so damned bewildered and innocent, and for a moment Rey forgets that he is frustrating and pretentious in the way that he’s constantly rattling off order points for these ignorant concoctions of his. 

“You like to try new things,” she echoes flatly.

“Well, yeah.” He shuffles his foot, not looking at her, and then he rolls his shoulders in a noncommittal gesture. “Plus, I guess… if I’m being honest…”

She crosses her arms. “Yeah?”

“Sometimes I make it a little harder so”—his eyes flick up to hers, a slight tinge at his cheeks—”it takes you longer.”

Her first instinct is to be angry, because he wants it to _take_ her longer? Of course he would purposely make it harder. Of course he would—

Wait.

She takes a step, uncrossing her arms. “Why would you want it to take me longer?”

“I—” He swallows thickly. “I guess so I can… see you a little longer.”

Rey blinks, and then blinks again, certain she’s misheard him. 

She thinks back to every exchange, every one of her frustrated scowls and his nonsense finger-waggings—and she thinks maybe he could really work on his people skills. Also, his flirting skills. Jesus Christ. Well… Mostly. She thinks back to every agonizing taste test of his cup in which his mouth has had a direct line to her libido—and she thinks maybe he’s a little better at it than she gives him credit for. 

Although, she’s still not sure that was a conscious seduction tactic, she thinks maybe he’s just neurotic.

Rey chews at her bottom lip for a good handful of seconds as she considers this, coming to a decision as she brushes past him to the front door of the shop. She flips the lock quickly, turning on her heel to stomp back to where he’s backing up near the glass display case for the cupcakes—grabbing a fistful of his stupid vest and yanking him down to her until his lips crash against hers.

It feels like a dam bursting, a metaphorical unleashing of weeks and _weeks_ of repressed sexual frustration—and okay. Maybe Rey is a little more enthusiastic than she should be. But his mouth is just as soft as she imagined, and even if he acts a little stunned at first he doesn’t pull away, even allowing her to back him up against the display case before his hands settle lightly at her hips. She feels the moment that he registers this is _actually_ happening—his teeth grazing her lower lip and his fingers tightening their grip—and he opens for her when she licks at the seam of his mouth, letting her tongue slide inside before one large hand glides up her back to cup her nape, pulling her closer.

“Your orders,” she says between kisses, “are so fucking stupid.”

He gasps when she manages to jerk down the zipper at his damned puff vest. “But you always”—he tenses when her hand flattens over shirt to rub at his abdomen— “get it just right.”

She laughs under her breath as she explores the definition that she _totally_ called through his shirt. “I think I was just as determined to get it right as you were to make it hard.”

She’s pushing his vest over his shoulders, a light grey number, and underneath there is a darker grey henley that is the same color as his beanie—and she rips this off too as she cards her fingers through his incredibly soft hair. She’s just attempting to get her fingers under the hem of his shirt when he pulls back with an incredulous look, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“What’s happening right now?”

Rey grins as she tugs at his shirt. “Collecting my tip.”

He raises his arms in a daze as she shoves it over his head, running her fingers over hard lines and chiseled edges and _god—_ she might make a thousand idiotic cups of coffee for this. Randy’s eyes dart around the room to settle on the little camera in the corner. “Won’t someone—”

“Haven’t worked since I started,” she mutters, already working at the button of his jeans. “Poe insists just seeing them is enough.”

He seems to panic by the time she’s tugging at his zipper. “What are you—are you sure you want to—”

She purses her lips, needing him a little less talkative and a lot more like his namesake. She reaches for the edge of her own t-shirt, pulling it up slowly and tossing it aside, the look in his eyes making her suddenly grateful for smaller breasts that don’t force her to strap them down in some Victoria’s Secret nightmare.

Randy doesn’t look like he’s mourning the loss.

There is no protest or hesitation when she closes the distance this time, and his hands are big and hot against her skin, wandering everywhere they can reach. He closes them around her ribs, he palms them over her breasts, he uses them to grip her waist and spin her—pressing her into the display case. 

His chest heaves as he peers over her shoulder. “Can we break this?”

“Poe has insurance,” she mutters, tugging him back down to her. 

He turns his head to slant his mouth across hers, muscles taut under her fingers as she glides them down his side to trace the lines of his Adonis belt before settling them at his gapped fly. He hisses when she shoves her hand inside to cup what at first touch seems to be a rather _impressive_ erection that twitches against her palm. 

“You could have just”—she wraps her fingers around him through the cloth of his underwear—“asked me out.” 

He hisses between his teeth when she presses her thumb to the damp patch at the head of him. “Obviously I was playing the long game,” he deadpans.

She huffs out a laugh as she presses up on her toes to kiss him. “Clearly.”

“Can I—” His fingers trace tentatively against the hem of her leggings. “Could I—?”

Rey grins cheekily. “You’re usually so articulate.”

“This is a lot better than coffee.”

“Mm. Good answer.”

She covers his mouth with hers as she pulls her hands from his skin to push at her leggings, shimmying them over her hips to kick out of them, but Randy is already curling his fingers under the lacy hem of her underwear, his mouth going slack against hers when two thick fingers dip between her folds.

“You’re so _wet,_ ” he marvels.

Her eyes flutter. “Keep going.”

He curls his middle and ring finger, letting the tips of them prod at her slick entrance to _just_ press inside. “ _Fuck,_ Rey.” He swallows, pressing them a little deeper as she gasps with it. “Are you sure you want to—sure you want to _here—_ ”

“Do you really want to give me time to change my mind? I made a _lot_ of dumb coffee.”

Randy seems to find this an excellent point. He works her underwear over her hips as she tugs at his, pushing them down with his jeans just enough to free his cock that is thick and straining and smeared wet at the head in anticipation. She grips him there to twist lightly, enjoying his groan. “Please tell me you’re clean.”

“I am,” he says quickly, like he’s proud of it. Like he _knows_ the reward it will gain him, and it makes him all the more eager. It’s actually a little endearing. She finds herself _very_ grateful for free birth control from the health clinic.

He hoists her up like she’s nothing, biceps going taut as he presses her into the display case, rutting his cock against her wet slit as his lips find her throat to mouth there sloppily. She can feel his tongue sliding against her throat, his fingers tight at her skin, and his cock parts her folds with wet sounds as he tilts his hips against her. 

She lets her fingers slide up his throat, tangling in his hair to grip because it’s soft, _so soft—_ and she feels the wet of his mouth slack against her throat, the warmth of his breath following after, and then there is a shifting of his hips as his cock catches her entrance, and she isn’t breathing, and neither is she, and then he’s _pushing,_ and—

“ _Fuck._ ”

His voice is loud in small waiting area, and he’s big, _too big—_ stretching her around him as he goes deeper, filling her up until there is nowhere to go. His teeth scrape along her throat, following with a heavy kiss that trails upwards, mouthing beneath her jaw as he gives her a moment to adjust. 

The glass of the display case is cool against her ass, but Rey can’t find it in her to mind. She feels Randy’s fingers curling at the edges of each rounded cheek, and she thinks she can’t say the same for him.

“You’re going to leave a smudge,” he murmurs, tracing the edge of her ass that’s pressed against the glass on both sides. 

She purposefully squeezes the walls of her cunt around him, drawing out a low moan from deep in his chest. “Are you really worried about that right now?”

“No. _Fuck._ No.”

“Good.” She kisses near his ear, licking at the soft lobe. “Then give me my fucking tip.”

He shudders all over, turning his face to slide his mouth across hers hungrily just as he begins to withdraw. She can feel every slick inch of him pressed against her, feel every bit of the wet slide as he pulls out, and her eyes close, and her breath catches, because _fuck_ is it worth an overage of ridiculous coffee orders. 

Her hands claw at his shoulders as he thrusts back inside, jolting her body as he curls over it to lay her harder against the glass. There is a brief flicker of worry in her mind because what if it _does_ break—but it’s eradicated by another roll of his hips as he fills her completely. 

“Fuck. _Fuck._ You feel”—he jolts into her especially hard, his nails digging into the softer flesh of her ass—“ _incredible._ ”

“Just like that,” she rasps unevenly. “ _Shit.”_

“Do you need me to—” His words taper off into a groan as she squeezes around him, and his head lolls to watch the way his cock dips inside her again and again. “I can’t reach. Do you need—”

She holds on with one arm looped around his neck, letting her free hand slide down her belly. “I’ve got it.”

The walls of her cunt tremble with every swipe of her fingers, and he must feel every occurance, because his body gets tense and his cock twitches _hard_ inside her, and the _sounds_ he’s making are primal and _so hot,_ and he—

“Can I come in you?” A choked moan escapes him as his thrusts grow erratic. “I want to come inside. I want to _feel_ it.”

She wonders if this should affect her as much as it does, but the way he’s still staring down at himself fucking her, she can’t seem to summon the mental capacity to analyze it.

“You can come,” she breathes. “You can come inside.”

_“God,_ yes _.”_

His thrusts are brutal now, but so is the frantic pace at which she rubs at her own clit, and she can feel it. Just there. Bright and pulsing and _hot—_ building and building until she has to close her eyes to draw in shallow breaths. 

“Shit. I’m going to— _ah—_ I’m going to—”

His open mouth skirts along her jaw, his voice rough. “Come. Give it to me. I want to feel that too.”

“ _Fuck.”_

Her hand falls away to grip at his side with slick fingers, feeling the way she spasms inside as her orgasm rocks through her. His breath huffs along her skin as one hand holds her up to let the other grip at the edge of the top of the display case as makes a guttural sound. His breath catches just before he begins to shake, and his cock twitches inside in heavy spurts as she feels warmth flood deep. 

He rests his head rest against her shoulder, still trembling a little even as she’s still _so full—_ and she tries to catch her breath as she smoothes her hand between his shoulder blades. He’s still breathing hard when he pulls away, still not releasing his hold on her where he has her hoisted, peering down between them where his cock is still rooted deep inside. 

She chances a glance between them when he makes a helpless sound, and she can _see_ the way he’s beginning to leak out of her, the image make her flush with warmth. 

“Well,” she huffs out an awkward laugh. “There’s your extra whip.”

She looks up to find him staring at her in a way that either means he’s horrified or in love with her—and honestly she’s too sex-dazed to care which. She wiggles her hips to stir up his cock that is softening inside, scratching at his shoulders. 

“You have to put me down sometime,” she reminds him gently.

He seems to remember himself then, pulling out of her with a wince as he slowly puts her on her feet. She can feel the slow trickle of him down her thigh, and she knows in a moment she’ll have to take care of that. Randy still looks a little out of it, hands hovering near her as if they’d like to touch her, but he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to anymore.

She makes a rash decision then, tugging him close and pressing up on her toes to leave one last kiss at his mouth, praying that she won’t come to regret it. “What are you doing after this?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Come to my place? I have nothing but old pizza and cable… but maybe I’ll let you do that again.”

“I can buy dinner,” he offers quickly, nodding in assent eagerly. “Whatever you want. My Prius is parked out front. We can—”

She raises an eyebrow. “You drive a Prius?”

“Yes?”

She outright laughs, shaking her head. “That’s perfect.”

“You really want to do this again?”

Her lips curl. “Will you stop making such crazy-ass orders?”

“Yes,” he says in a rush. “Normal orders. I promise.”

“Then I do.” She reaches for her t-shirt, pulling it over her head before she leans up to let her lips settle against his cheek lightly. “I could use another tip.”

Randy doesn’t protest one bit.

* * *

“He sure seems to come in a lot more often now,” Poe points out. “He’s been in here like every day for a month.”

“Has he?” Rey smiles to herself, her back turned as she finishes up Randy’s drink. “Huh.”

“You two seem a lot more chatty too,” Poe says with suspicion. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Not really,” Rey hums in a slight sing-song. 

She finishes up the cup, holding it as she flashes Poe an innocent smile. He frowns, grumbling under his breath as he stalks off into the storeroom for more strawberries. Randy is waiting for her on the other side of the counter, and giving her a wide grin as she hands the cup over to him. 

“Java Chip Frappuccino for you, sir,” she calls. She lowers her voice before adding: “I added _one_ pump of vanilla as a treat. Since you’ve been good.”

He bites back his grin to keep it from spreading, fingers brushing against hers as he takes the cup. Rey leans on her elbows over the counter, turning her head. “Are you coming over after work?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes eagerly, making her smile brighter. “I’ll be there around seven.”

Her eyes crinkle. “Can’t wait.”

He gives her a little wave before he tells her he will see her later, and she calls after him, watching him turn to give her a curious look as she crooks her finger for him to come closer. He bends down over the counter as she gestures him near, and she tugs at his vest as soon as he’s close enough, her mouth pressing to his. He braces himself against the counter with one hand as he lifts his drink high so as not to spill it, closing his eyes as he melts into a kiss that is probably not entirely appropriate for the work place. Like she cares.

He’s a little dazed when he pulls away, pupils blown and mouth parted, and Rey shrugs softly as a little smile paints her mouth. “You forgot my tip.”

Randy’s smile is shy and slow, and she nods her head towards the front door with a quiet promise to see him later.

She watches him with an easy grin the entire time he leaves, thinking to herself that maybe she should have given him that second pump after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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